Vicissitude
by Aevium
Summary: It was this balance of vicissitudes between them, keeping up a steady enough rhythm to propel them forward, but also regularly transforming and changing to preserve their individual strengths and pride. ZoSanZo oneshot. Warning for explicit sexual themes!


**AN: **So, more smut from me. I'm scared of getting booted off this site in the future for continuously posting blatant oneshots like this, but for now… meh. xD This one is inspired by Sybile's really hot art "Smother". Sanji's devilish expression always piqued my interest and so I finally wrote something about it! I've been meaning to write something like this for a while. I hope you guys like it, it's… different. I had so much fun writing it though. :)

**Warnings:** Language and smut of course. Typos/missing words since I only gave this one look-over. Fair warning for a bit of orgasm control. Also, this is a _ZoSanZo_ fic, which means they switch in the same sex session.

Panas = hot (weather) in Indonesian. At least, according to Google Translate. Which doesn't say much but whatever.

**Vicissitude**

The galley door slammed open. "Gimme booze, stupid cook."

Well, it was fair to say that Sanji had stretched his patience far enough with Zoro today. But right now—as he finished off putting away the last of their renewed stock—the bastard in question really couldn't have said anything more irritating than _that_. If straws on his back were indeed a measurement of his endurance (for marimo-stupidity), then that line truly had been the _last straw_.

As those heavy, booted footsteps clonked closer on the other side of the counter, Sanji calmly lit up. Then he leapt right over the counter, walloping Zoro in the face and sending him into the dining table with a loud crash. He'd clean that up later. All that mattered to him now was kicking the living shit right out of Zoro's body. No way in hell would he clean that up later, though.

"What the hell!" Zoro shouted, holding his face.

Sanji was on him in milliseconds, practically sweeping Zoro off the table like loose crumbs. "You know, when we started this thing—" he growled with an axe kick to the ground. "—this _whatever it is_—" Zoro rolled away, and the only reason the planks beneath Sanji's heel didn't splinter was because he hadn't wanted them to. "—we agreed to keep it a total secret, _no?!"_

"Huh!?" Zoro gawked, barely having time to rise to his feet before dodging another angry black shoe. "What are you talking about!?"

"I'm talking about _you—_!" the cook shouted, twirling and shooting his feet at Zoro from all angles. He didn't even want to give him the chance to draw those damn swords of his. "_You,_ the guy who seems to think that molesting me in public is a solid way to vouch secrecy, huh!? You _lech_!"

"Ah?" Zoro groused, blocking a kick with his forearm. "Me the lech? In that case, I sure gave you a taste of your own medicine, didn't I _love-cook_?" He sent an open palm to Sanji's chest, hoping to grab him by the collar.

Sanji deftly flipped backwards, avoiding Zoro's grip and back swiping with his ascending legs. They met air as Zoro appeared to have dodged. He barked back, "I don't _grope_ women, you asshole! It's called admiring from afar!"

"That shit's boring! I say _take action!"_ he said it with a cheeky grin, before avoiding another furious leg. Zoro's dodging served him well, but all of these quick movements in this humid heat already caused him to sweat, and he could see a sheen appearing on Sanji's visible skin as well.

This island, Panas Island, was a tropical summer-summer island which had a stifling humid heat that even the sea's breeze couldn't blow away. Nonetheless, it was tropical, which meant lots of fun for Luffy and the crew. Currently Zoro and Sanji were alone on the Sunny due to this fact. The two of them had just returned to the ship after shopping in the food market. They returned to relieve Usopp's watch—who happily went off on his own to explore the island thereafter—only for the cook to unreasonably explode on Zoro, placing them in their present situation now.

Well, okay, _maybe_ not so unreasonably. Zoro had asked for it. But, that's precisely what he'd done. He'd been asking for this, this blazing fight, hoping for it to lead into something more. Their fling—their _whatever it was_, as Sanji liked to call it—was addictive. And sometimes, he just couldn't help himself. Just as he routinely indulged in his booze, he liked to indulge in sex with Sanji. It was just their _whatever it was_.

Besides, he couldn't even recall how many times Sanji had initiated sex between them. In Zoro's mind? Sanji definitely held a higher tally than him.

So maybe he'd gotten a little ballsy and decided to give Sanji hints in the market. He'd only touched his ass a couple times. Sanji was exaggerating as usual. Such a heated personality, the cook had. It went well with this damn heat and humidity.

"Oh, _yeah_," Sanji continued with scorn in his tone, "Take action, you say? You've got no _finesse_ you no-good swordsman!" He swung a leg at Zoro's head, hoping to make contact with that damn green lascivious _shitty_—

"Go on, then!" Zoro taunted, moving with the flow of Sanji's kick and practically shoving his leg aside. "Show me how it's done!"

Wrinkles sprouted on Sanji's face as his expression scrunched up with impressive anger. "I'll tell you what I'll do…" he said, almost seductively low while lifting his leg high. The cigarette between his teeth held no chance against his tightening jaw. "I'll plough you into the damn sea so you can cool off—" he barraged Zoro with a multitude of rapid kicks at all angles, until Zoro's guard was effectively overwhelmed and broken. "—_pervert-marimo!"_

And with a furious, head-on kick to Zoro's chest, he sent the swordsman flying out the entrance to the galley, over the railing and onto the grass of Sunny's lawn-deck. Sanji smirked and ran out of the galley, wiping sweat from his forehead in the process. He leapt over the railing and made a soft, elegant landing on grass. He raised an eyebrow as Zoro picked himself up, holding his chest and panting.

Sanji casually pointed downwards. "Stay down, grass-boy. Gotta stick with your kin."

"Heh," Zoro spat. Ignoring the cook's comment, he straightened up and stared stolidly into Sanji's eye. It'd been quite the kick; Zoro could still feel its impact rattling around in his lungs. These strengths in the cook never failed to stir him up in more ways than one. Maybe a compliment was due here for the cook's harsh, but effective seduction. "Nice kick…" That was of course, before he showed _him_ how to properly tempt a partner. "…for a third-rate cook."

Just as Sanji's face twisted up in rage, Zoro sprinted forward on the attack. Sanji shot an impatient foot towards the centre of his face, but Zoro saw it coming. He always knew when the cook got a little too heated for his own good by the maddened flicker in his eye, as well as the way his teeth grated against his cigarette, his mouth forming a strained scowl around it. Like he was containing the rage of the Devil himself in that one scrawny body of his.

But it was fine. Anger was just another way to turn the cook on.

Zoro sidestepped to avoid Sanji's foot, but his leg was something he didn't want to miss. He grabbed Sanji by the shin and wasted no time throwing the cook across the lawn, right into the middle of the deck. He smirked as he watched Sanji awkwardly land on his side—looking entirely embarrassed—before Zoro lunged again to catch him with his guard down.

Sanji sensed Zoro coming, and barely had time to wipe the sweat from his face—which was starting to drip now, in this intense, thick heat—before kicking at the swordsman from the ground, and transforming it into a beautiful arrangement of twirls and strikes on his hands. He flipped to his feet when he'd held Zoro off enough to gain the opportunity. Sanji panted, and loosened the constricting tie from around his collar before pouncing again.

He flipped, spun and changed his attack points seconds apart, proving himself to be a pesky opponent for Zoro, who was dodging and blocking his attacks with his arms like he was trying to catch a fly. But Zoro wasn't using his swords, which served to annoy Sanji further.

He finally asked, "Not gonna play with your sticks?"

"That depends…" Zoro grinned, waiting for his moment. When Sanji sent him a straight-forward shot near the shoulder, Zoro dodged and reached out to grab his wrist. Apparently shocked, Sanji attempted to kick him away with his other leg, but Zoro blocked it—bore the shockwave it sent through the bones of his arm—and promptly shifted to Sanji's back, bringing his wrist with him. He pressed that wrist to the dampening fabric at Sanji's spine, and relished in the way Sanji's back arched as if to escape the temporary entrapment. The frustrated grunt Sanji let out provoked Zoro to press himself closer. He leaned into Sanji's ear from behind to seductively complete his words. "Are you really worth it?"

Sanji's eyes narrowed. Zoro's baiting words in his ear were inherently annoying, but perhaps more so were those breaths of his which felt enhanced by the sweat on his cheek. He felt those breaths stick to his skin, and against the disgusting humidity and the way his clothes were clinging to his sweaty body, it made Zoro's close contact all that much more _frustrating._ So when he felt arousal stirring up in his body—and Zoro had thus gained his damn prize—it was the very peak of agitation for him. Why did this goddamn idiot turn him on _so much_?

He slammed the heel of his shoe down on Zoro's foot, making the swordsman gasp in pain behind him and loosen that grip on his wrist for what had to be a millisecond. But Sanji took his chance, wrenching his arm free and then he twisted around, using the gained momentum to propel his shoe right into Zoro's head.

Zoro went down clutching at his skull. That would give him a headache later. Suddenly, in the gaze of sunset, the shadow of Sanji's form stretched across his line of sight, and the cook had the nerve to place a shoe on his back while he was down. He squinted upwards just as Sanji was deliciously unbuttoning the top of his aquamarine dress shirt.

"Take out your swords, shitty swordsman," he advised around the cigarette drooping from his lips and teeth. "You'll need them."

Zoro definitely liked this challenge. He elbowed Sanji's foot off of him and proceeded to take advantage of the cook's one-footed imbalance. Sending his leg out, he trip kicked Sanji to the ground and quickly crawled of top of him before the cook could even catch his breath. He placed his hands overtop Sanji's upper chest and collar bones, pressing him down to the grass. He stroked his thumbs along the base of Sanji's throat, savouring his pale, moist skin.

Sanji was quick to react, his eyes sparking up with that near-permanent fire of his, and he wrapped his legs around Zoro's neck from behind, pulling his body back, practically prying him away like stubborn algae. Eventually he managed to get Zoro's hands off of his chest, and he thus gained enough mobility to slam the marimo down sideways. "Too greedy!" he apprehended. He gracefully rolled backwards onto his feet.

Zoro stood quickly and withdrew two of his swords—Kitetsu and Shusui—with a beckoning smile. He could feel the heat on his skin, his sweat dripping down and bleeding through to his clothes. The damp fabric of his clothes sticking to his skin felt stifling, and it was rapidly becoming irksome. This heat was delightfully smothering. Smothering him in the best way possible, completed by the cook's fire.

Sanji exhaled smoke through his nose, looking so relaxed and frazzled all in one moment, before taking action. His long legs acted fast and he unleashed a deluge of kicks at Zoro. The two of them met a fighting rhythm and maintained it, relentlessly dodging and parrying each other. But after minutes of this, eventually the thick heat sapped too much of their energy and breaths, and they ended up on the ground rolling over and over again for control. When Zoro pinned Sanji down again, Sanji decided it was best to take this inside somewhere. Especially with the way he was reacting to Zoro's body from such consistent, full contact with his own. And he was sure he had felt some arousal on Zoro's end too. He could see the door to the aquarium bar from his position on the ground, and grinned.

He kicked Zoro off and stood. Then, he took off towards the door, baiting Zoro. Of course the swordsman was right behind him. Sanji opened the door just as Zoro nearly grabbed him, but he deftly avoided it and then side kicked Zoro in the back. The swordsman stumbled inside, and Sanji closed the door just as Zoro lost his footing and landed on the checker-patterned floor of the aquarium bar. The dark, aquatic lighting swathed over them, immediately making the slight temperature change feel much more drastic than it actually was. Sanji's footsteps echoed in the room as he stalked over to Zoro's form.

Zoro moved to get up, but Sanji quickly eased him back with a pressing shoe to his shoulder, before snapping it forward to effectively kick him to his back. He inhaled and removed his cigarette, bending down onto one knee with one foot still locking Zoro's shoulder in place on the floor. He slowly breathed smoke into Zoro's aggravated face and smirked conceitedly when he felt the cool metal of a katana threatening his neck. "You won't be needing _those_ anymore, will you?" he implied, staring lustfully into Zoro's eyes.

"Heh," Zoro snickered. "Guess not."

Equally lustful, his eyes didn't leave Sanji's as he slid his swords away on the tile, sheaths and all. He then shot his hand out and grabbed a handful of aqua-blue fabric, tugging Sanji down to him. Their lips melded together, seeming to blend entirely with the intense moisture of their skin. Sanji brought his hands up to clutch Zoro's face while Zoro's tongue found its way into the cook's mouth. They breathed loudly in sync, and Sanji's hips began to move on their own. He rubbed himself against Zoro rhythmically and unlocked his lips, panting and moving his kisses and licks to Zoro's cheeks, then along his jaw line and neck. The salt of Zoro's skin pleasantly stung his tongue, encouraging him to move down for more.

Zoro put his hand to Sanji's ass and used the other to fiddle with the cook's belt. But Sanji's grinding motions—while amazing on his cock—were making this feat next to impossible. He huffed and shoved Sanji aside with his forearm. Then he curled over him and took control, roughly tugging at the cook's belt.

"Hey!" Sanji reprimanded. "Careful, _careful!_ Don't rip the damn buckle off!" He placed his cigarette back in his mouth and swatted Zoro's hands away to do it himself. Admittedly, he could understand Zoro's impatience. He wanted these constrictive pants off of him just as desperately.

After the obstacle of Sanji's belt had been dealt with, Zoro worked on the zipper while tugging at the black material of his pants until they relinquished and he slid them down far enough for him to get to what was beneath. He vaguely felt Sanji's hands fiddling around with his haramaki. Then the cook was saying something to him, but he ignored whatever had been said and groped Sanji's semi-hard cock through his boxers. The low breath Sanji let out encouraged him to dip down, but a black shoe pushed him back. He stared at Sanji in aggravation.

"Not listening, huh?" Sanji growled, then demanded, "Take off that stupid stomach-warmer."

Zoro clicked his tongue and obliged, folding it over his shoulders and arms before throwing it aside. Then Sanji's hands slid up underneath his white shirt, moving along the hard curves of his abdomen.

"Good, now…" he said, coiling his legs around Zoro's firm midsection. Then, he smirked. "My turn." Zoro's lackadaisical moment allowed his powerful legs to twist them both to the side, and Sanji rolled on top of him, successfully swapping their positions.

The cook's hands slithered underneath Zoro's shirt, lifting and wrinkling it upwards with his caresses as he moved up Zoro's torso. Finally they arrived at Zoro's chest, circling around his nipples, and then Sanji plucked the cigarette from his lips and curved down to place his mouth to tanned skin. Somewhat blindly, Zoro reached for Sanji's crotch, and the fact that Sanji was leaning into him with his pants half down turned him on immensely. Zoro slipped into Sanji's boxers and took a hold of his hardening member, lifting it above the strap to tease it. The cook breathed out sharply against his sternum, looking and sounding deliciously pleased. Zoro wrapped his other arm around Sanji's midsection, caressing the arch of his sexy, slender back through the damp wrinkles of his shirt. This was when he realized that that dress shirt needed to go.

Zoro's hands left his body for a moment before fiddling with the buttons of his shirt. Sanji was sick of the damn thing clinging to his skin anyway—it was far too _hot_—so he embraced Zoro's decision to strip him clean of it. In the meantime, he decided he should do the same for his pants. Sanji could feel a growing hardness against his ass and so he knew it was time to give Zoro relief from the shackles of his own clothing.

With the shirt unbuttoned—but not removed—and Sanji distracted with his pants, Zoro resisted the urge to make his move. But even through the daze of arousal, he realized that his shoes would be a problem, and so would Sanji's. The cook had just finished loosening Zoro's pants before Zoro stopped him with a hand to the chest. "Wait a sec," he instructed, and sat up to untie his boots.

Sanji sighed exasperatedly and paused for a painful moment, before taking a drag from his cigarette and then following Zoro's example, slipping out of his own shoes. About to tug off the second sock, he really should have kept an eye on that sneaky bastard, because he was promptly knocked over. His loose belt buckle jangled with the harsh shove, and after landing on his back he grunted, nearly spitting out his cigarette. Zoro—his bottom half completely naked now—was already on him with a cocky grin before he could open his eyes.

Zoro leaned down and set his lips to Sanji's neck, holding down his left shoulder to keep him in place. He felt down Sanji's slim, toned body with the other hand, trailing down, aiming for both of their members. His lips slid along the surface of Sanji's neck and below, and he kissed and licked at the cook's glowing, moist skin. He felt hands slithering through his hair and over the back of his head, disrupting his earrings and making them chime. Sanji's other hand was already on his own cock by the time Zoro reached it, and so Zoro took his out and began to stroke. As he licked around the cook's nipple, he could hear the rapid beating of Sanji's heart, and soon the throb of his own when an arousing heat washed over him. He exhaled deeply from the sensation and straightened a little, reaching for Sanji's dick. The cook's hand surprisingly receded as he allowed Zoro to put their growing erections together, and then they both surged with the waves of stimulation.

Thoroughly enjoying Zoro's work on the both of them below, Sanji decided to relax and leave the task of getting him harder to Zoro. His skillful legs managed to shift out of his pants, leaving his lower half with just boxers. Sanji also loosened his tie enough to swing it over his head and onto the floor behind him.

The swordsman's fingers on his balls did wonders to strengthen his arousal; stirring him into a further state of euphoria. Soon enough, the two of them were breathing heavily with increasing, heavy, _heated_ arousals. Sanji wiped wet strands of blond hair from his brow and then smoothed his hands all over Zoro's abdomen, sides, and obliques, caressing him down to his bare ass. He grasped the softer flesh and sensually squeezed and glided over it with his palms and fingers. Zoro's efforts at his front were paying off, and one _particularly_ nice stroke to his tip enhanced the rising pressure of his cock, sending gratifying shivers throughout his lower body. Sanji shifted and grunted before taking the cigarette from his mouth and keeping it between two poised fingers. He exhaled a cloud of smoke and attempted to sit up. It was about time to stop Zoro's fun, particularly because if he didn't, he wasn't sure how much longer he would last.

When the sound of Sanji's large exhale and a stronger scent of nicotine reached Zoro's senses, he knew what to expect. The cook, before making a move, tended to take in a deep drag before releasing it in a slow exhale. And so when Sanji moved to sit up on his elbows, Zoro shoved him back down and continued to indulge in the friction between them below. He let out a short breath from the intensifying strength of his own erection, as well as the erotic sight of the cook's frazzled yet deeply aroused appearance. He knew they needed to fuck, and soon.

Disgruntled from being pushed, Sanji lifted his leg to line up with Zoro's upper chest and placed his foot there. He almost smiled when he saw that it was the foot that still had a sock on it. Zoro stared at him challengingly, but the bastard must've _wanted_ Sanji to take control—to make the change—because his foot pushed Zoro back easier than expected. Good. It was much more difficult and uncomfortable to make sharp movements with a stiff, blood-rushed cock, anyway. Sanji smirked and sat up, making use of Zoro's easygoing nature right now which conveniently gave him the chance to remove his boxers. Then he crawled overtop of Zoro who was lying on his elbows.

There was something far too suspiciously _easy_ about this. But he ignored it. He desperately needed to fuck the marimo, and _now. _And he didn't want _any more_ delays or switch-ups.

Inside Zoro was grinning when Sanji—deluded, deluded Sanji—frantically took him by the wrists and locked them to the floor above his head. And he almost laughed—_should_ have laughed—when the cocksure cook spit into his hand and began to hastily rub himself down. Hah. Only Sanji would be disillusioned enough to believe that these stick-arms of his could hold _him_ down. Perhaps he let Sanji settle in between his legs out of amusement. Perhaps he let him get close enough to penetration—the head of Sanji's cock now pressing against its goal—out of the simple desire to tantalize him.

Zoro abruptly placed the soles of his feet on both sides of Sanji's abdomen and pried him away. Granted, he wasn't nearly as talented with his legs, but they accomplished their job of getting Sanji's dick _away_ from him. Simultaneously, Zoro resisted Sanji's arm strength, lifting his arms above him. The expression on the cook's face as Zoro overwhelmed his arms—bending them inward like straws—was priceless. Mostly anger, but that little hint of hurt pride was absolutely precious while Zoro smoothly extended his arms in front of him as if he were having a particularly easy training session. With a mischievous glint in his eye, he sent a toothy grin to Sanji.

He razzed: "You're dreaming, right?"

Sanji growled in what sounded like absolute frustration. That irritated scowl on his face and his clear dishevelment—that blond, sweat-strewn hair splaying in all sorts of directions; his open shirt barely clinging to his right shoulder—all of it served to excite Zoro further. Sometimes, the heat of Sanji's fiery anger could be scalding or just plain annoying. Other times, like now, that heat shot through Zoro's body like a fuel for lust, desire, and something else; something inexplicable.

And suddenly, he _needed_ to be inside him.

He acted fast, wrenching his arms free of Sanji's grip and paid the cook back by harshly seizing his wrist. Sanji threatened to resist with a feisty leg but Zoro moved behind him in a flash. Close to the front wall from their position on the ground, Zoro stood and tugged Sanji up with him, then shoved at his back towards the planked wall by the door.

Sanji braced his hands against the wall, lessening the impact, but huffed when Zoro slammed against him, pressing him frontwards into the wood. His erection throbbed in protest against the reckless action, and he gruffly spat behind him, "Bastard!"

Zoro merely scoffed in response. Sanji felt his hands all over him—smothering him with heat and fervour—and when hungry lips pressed onto his right shoulder, he heard and felt Zoro happily hum against his skin. He smirked devilishly, cigarette still smouldering from his stretched lips. It thrilled Sanji immensely to hear that kind of passion from Zoro. He'd had enough sex with the guy to know that bringing noises like that out of him was a rare task, so he revelled in it every time he had the luxury of hearing it. This was something he liked about Zoro—his control over his emotions—it made anything he brought out of him feel like an accomplishment; a reward; a _challenge_.

The weight of Zoro's body alleviated off him as a hand slinked up his stomach and clutched at his chest. While he enjoyed the sensation of Zoro's hand exploring him, Sanji knew the marimo had made a grave mistake by easing back. The sharp sound of spitting came to his ears, and Sanji knew that if he wanted to conserve their struggle for control, he would need to act _now_.

He snaked an arm behind him and provocatively brushed his fingers over Zoro's shaft, concurrently using his thumb to plug the head of the other's arousal. "Too greedy," he admonished, echoing his previous words. Zoro groaned impatiently behind him and his hand retreated from Sanji's body to fix the delay he'd caused. Sanji wouldn't give him the chance. He coiled his right leg around Zoro's and pushed himself off the wall, gracefully spinning along the axis of Zoro's body. Behind him now, he swept his foot across back of his knee, automatically bringing Zoro down to one knee. Sure, it was a cheap shot, but he couldn't give less of a shit right now because _foreplay was fucking over._ He placed a hand on the moist fabric on Zoro's back to bend him over, temporarily keeping him there, and then licked his own hand before smoothing it over his excited cock.

Zoro mentally cursed at himself for his lapse in concentration, and clenched his teeth when Sanji's heat pressed inside of him. The cook eased his way in—which felt like somewhat of an insult to Zoro—as hands groped and squeezed his ass. Sanji let out a satisfied moan while pulling back out, and the cook's sexy voice had Zoro's hand moving on impulse, grabbing a hold of his swelling hardness to stroke it fervently. He pressed his forehead to the wall when Sanji pushed inside again, and rubbed his fingers along his shaft more intensely. Then the cook sped up to an impatient pace and Zoro heard his muffled swears as he moved back and forth to meet Sanji's thrusts. He felt the warmth of Sanji's stomach hovering over his back, and the two hands on his hips moved up his sides, lifting his shirt to feel him up. Warm kisses and licks littered over the skin of his back, but the pleasure came from the coolness Sanji's trail of saliva left behind.

He wished he could see the idiot's face. But judging by the sounds he could hear; harsh pants and groans—Sanji always was the more vocal of the two—Zoro could tell that the cook was delving into a far-gone, half-conscious state of lust. Running away with his pleasure. Who was the greedy one here, really?

But this was the trap that always proved to ensnare the cook. This was Zoro's chance, and it was there for the taking.

The heat and pressure around Sanji's cock had him going wild. With his head hung low, his breaths and gasps were rapid; his thrusts were desperate and untamed. Sanji really didn't know what it was about this bastard that often got him so _painfully _aroused, but in raw moments like these, he didn't care for an answer. He could come right here and now if he kept going… could _finish_…

But Zoro braced one hand on the wall, then straightened up enough to twisted around to plant his palm on Sanji's chest. The blond furiously groaned as Zoro bluntly shoved him back onto the tile. Standing and holding his burdensome erection, Zoro stalked over to Sanji, who had gotten to his feet as well, currently looking so sexually frustrated and frazzled that it served to hurt them both. Zoro rubbed the back of his head to clear his hair of loose perspiration and then wiped his brows with his forearm. Then he finally peeled off his sweat-drenched T-shirt—his last remaining article of clothing—and chucked it to the floor with a splat. He advanced towards the cook who was lit up with more than just the oceanic glow of the aquarium surrounding them. His brown eyes locked onto the blue of Sanji's, which enticingly harmonized with the aquatic lighting.

One sleeve of his dress shirt hanging off his shoulder, Sanji sluggishly lingered in his spot, breathing heavily through his teeth. Zoro's hungry eyes on him felt almost as intimidating as they did embarrassing. One foot instinctively moved back when Zoro breached his personal space, but he kept up a stubborn glare, teeth locking his exhausted cigarette in place.

Finally, Zoro hovered over his lips and demanded: "Take that damn stub out of your mouth, stupid cook." He bit what was left of the cigarette and plucked it from Sanji's teeth, spitting it to the ground. Then, to get rid of the ashy taste it left on his tongue, he licked the corner of Sanji's mouth and flowed into a pattern of fierce, desperate kisses.

Sanji closed his eyes and inhaled deeply from the potency of Zoro's seduction, tangling his fingers in green strands and wrapping his other hand around to caress the grooves of Zoro's spine and shoulder blades. A warm hand flattened against his chest, and Sanji found himself being lulled backwards onto a section of the curved, massive couch. He didn't protest, not with Zoro kissing him so vibrantly. Sitting down, Zoro's lips were still on him but had now carried over to his neck. Sanji tilted his head up, inhaling through his nose and then breathing out with a contented hum. Zoro stripped him of his shirt and led him down onto his back on the cushiony surface.

It was this balance of vicissitudes between them, keeping up a steady enough rhythm to propel them forward, but also regularly transforming and changing to preserve their individual strengths and pride. It was this balance that magnetized them together the most; this balance which kept them coming back for more. It hooked and addicted them; made an absolute _mess_ of them.

Zoro placed one of Sanji's calves over his shoulder as he slicked his erection down. He took notice of the one lone sock still on Sanji's foot and smirked, reaching back to remove it. But that foot snapped against the action, prompting Zoro to turn and look at the cook. Sanji had a firm grip on his very desperate looking cock, and his stomach rose and fell with the intensity of his breaths, his expression a salivating mix of anger and lust.

"Screw the goddamn _sock_, Zoro, and _fuck me!"_

Zoro swallowed down that thoroughly arousing scene and obliged, finally pushing inside the cook, who gave a pleased moan once he completed his enclosure. Zoro breathed out stiffly, that heat feeling incredibly euphoric around him. Zoro slid out and then plunged in again, watching Sanji's reactions like a hawk while the cook clenched his jaw together and started to rub up and down his shaft. Zoro continued his thrusts with more intensity, trying to reach an area he knew would put Sanji over the top. And while he wasn't at his peak yet, it was obvious that the cook was closer than him—he'd _begged_ to be fucked of all things—and was now breathing and groaning more frenetically than Zoro could say he'd ever seen from him before.

As Zoro's movements kept up an astonishing pace, Sanji's thoughts were gone. He was in pure ecstasy, was starting to feel the physical _need_ for release rather than the simple desire to get there. Eventually, after much stimulation, he could feel a rising pleasure within him layering on top of his already heightened level of arousal. Some of Zoro's thrusts were _just skimming_ him inside; _just_ the lick of the flame. It was insanely frustrating, and he found himself tantalized with every thrust Zoro made. Finally, he stopped Zoro with an impetuous shove to his chest.

"_Fuck_," was all he spat with uneven breaths as he sat up. He _needed_ to take care of this himself.

Zoro, now sitting normally on the couch, growled at the cook who promptly settled on top of him, face to face, with his arms enclosing around his neck. Then Sanji eagerly sank back around his erection. Everything about the cook right now spelt out the very definition of desperate need. They were too imbalanced—Zoro realized—their aroused states were swiftly falling out of tune. As Sanji began to vigorously slam down on him, Zoro noticed the wetness exuding from the tip of Sanji's cock, and he clicked his tongue. When one of Sanji's arms left his shoulders, Zoro stopped it, knowing where it was headed. Sanji's sharp glare was almost frightening. Almost. Instead Zoro found it extremely erotic.

"Hold off," he told him. While the erratic motions around his erection felt _incredible_, the less stimulation Sanji felt, the more time he could squeeze out of him. And he would need it for what his urges were telling him to do.

Sanji growled, aggravated, but resigned and placed his arm back on Zoro's shoulder. He slowed down his movements to a comfortable rhythm, riding Zoro smoothly, not so ferociously. This resign to patience actually helped him out in the end, because the slow, careful strokes rubbed him inside in the most accurate, _pleasant_ way. His abdomen and thigh muscles tightened from one exceptional stroke, and he tilted his head down, hovering beside Zoro's earrings.

Zoro heard Sanji's breaths halt for a moment, and then the cook's thighs squeezed his upper legs with the grip of a snake. Zoro knew what was happening, and so just as one of Sanji's hands left his shoulder, he acted. He placed his thumb to the tip of Sanji's intense erection right before another hand pressed on top, wrestling with the lock of his thumb. When he realized that Sanji's hand was actually _shaking_ in its frantic attempt to loosen his grip, Zoro almost felt kind of bad.

Sanji let out a thoroughly exasperated curse as he dug his fingers into Zoro's shoulders from the strain of repressed release. Then, he muttered under arduous breaths: "You dick…"

"Can't hold out?" Zoro teased.

"Fuck you," Sanji retorted. This _cocky_ bastard. He would hold out, _could_ hold out. Though unfortunately, he wasn't sure how long that would be. He also wasn't sure if he'd ever felt so damn hard in his _life_.

Truthfully, the sight of all this on top of Sanji's stimulating movements had made Zoro absurdly hard as well. But it also gave him the urge to make one last change-up before Sanji finished. He wouldn't have much time considering Sanji's orgasm had already been held off once, but he would take whatever he could get.

As soon as Sanji's body seemed to relax—though that held a different meaning considering the guy's circumstances—Zoro released the cook's arousal and then eased him down onto his back on the couch. Then he crawled on top of him and hovered over his erection with a smirk.

Sanji gulped, feeling light-headed. Despite his resolutions from before, he could admit that _this_ would end him quickly.

Zoro planted his hands on Sanji's stomach and sank comfortably down around his member, settling on top of him. Through the process he'd felt its incredible stiffness, and he was further assured that he wouldn't be able to make this entirely worth his efforts. But just carrying Sanji to completion like this was a reward in and of itself. Sanji's hands caressed his thighs while he rose and fell, rolling with his tempo. Zoro grunted from his rampant efforts and received his payoff when the cook's face twisted up with overwhelming pleasure.

Sanji was doing his best to suppress his imminent climax, but Zoro's body rocking against the _ache_ of his erection like this—setting the final pieces in place for his bottled-up pleasure—made it impossible to withstand. His muscles tensed and he took in a deep breath, clutching Zoro's thighs in a death grip. "Zoro…" he mustered in warning.

If Sanji's fingers digging into his skin weren't enough of a warning, the urgency in his tone definitely was. He slid off and settled back while Sanji went up on one elbow to rub his spasms out. Tremendously aroused but still not quite _there_ yet, he curved over Sanji's trembling form and pecked at the inner skin of his thigh. Zoro watched with his fingers coiled around his cock while Sanji took in a shuddery breath, then exhaled with a powerful groan as he spurted onto his stomach.

Sanji let his head droop behind him and felt like he was finally melting from all of the heat and exertion his body had just endured. He let loose a powerful sigh—content and satisfied and still stroking his waning erection—and then he was suddenly guided into a more upright position on the couch. He knew what Zoro needed and so he lifted both legs up to rest them on the swordsman's shoulders.

Zoro—after using the beautiful sight of Sanji's climax as a stimulus to enhance his arousal—settled in between the cook's long, sexy legs and thrust deep inside. His pace was immediate and frantic; quick and wild. He knew it was a selfish thing to do when Sanji was already finished, but he intended to reach his limit very soon and this was the way to do it.

But he didn't feel so terrible when Sanji's arms wrapped around him. He breathed heavily and curved down to lean his cheek against the cook's ear. He then placed his forehead on the backrest of the couch as Sanji's head shifted forwards, and he felt lips pressing onto his collar bone before they pecked up his neck. Zoro smiled with an exuberant huff.

It really was no wonder that he couldn't get enough of this guy.

Before long, Zoro reached the crest of his pleasure with his hectic thrusts. His leg and core muscles quivered; his breaths came out in scattered gasps and suppressed moans as he finally seized his climax. Hurriedly, he pulled out of Sanji and rubbed himself to maintain that essential grip on his orgasm. Zoro hummed in his euphoric state and let those perfect spasms override everything else, losing grasp of his control as he came at last between their bodies.

Zoro buried his face into Sanji's shoulder while he panted in exhaustion. Sanji's breathing was still settling as well, and they held each other in complete, utterly splendid fatigue, waiting for their bodies to recover from the repercussions of an amazingly intense sex session.

Sanji began to fondle Zoro's earrings. He liked to hear their chime in silences like this. Then, he realized what their situation would be if Luffy and the others came back. "You think they'll be back soon?" he questioned.

Zoro inhaled deeply before answering. "Dunno." He subtly smirked. "With Luffy out there, we can expect tardiness."

Sanji frowned. "I hope you're not implying what I think you're implying."

Zoro scoffed at him. "You flatter yourself. I mean we should have time to clean up."

"Right," Sanji agreed. He stared longingly at his pants lying on the floor across the room. "I need a cigarette."

"You smoked almost the_ entire_ time we—"

"After-sex cigarettes, Zoro, they're different. And important." He straightened up, causing Zoro to shift slightly. "But I guess that can wait. We really should wash up," he resigned. Then he put a hand to Zoro's sweaty chest and set him apart at arm's length. "You stink, algae-head."

"So do you!" Zoro pointed out, irritated.

"Unlike you, I bathe daily! So _you _smell worse!" Sanji groused, standing up. "Anyway, join me for a shower," he suggested, rubbing the back of his neck as he began to step away.

"Hey, cook." Zoro stopped him by the forearm and forthrightly tugged him down onto his lap.

Sanji landed somewhat awkwardly with a huff, but soon straightened himself out and folded one leg across Zoro's lap, encircling his arms around his neck. Then he leaned into Zoro's face with a playfully annoyed expression and replied: "_What?"_

"I seduced you, didn't I?"

An exasperated sigh. "Yeah, yeah, you got what you wanted, okay? Vain bastard."

Zoro smiled gently as he glided his hands up along the curves of Sanji's obliques and then circled his touches around to his back. "It's not hard to get what I want when you're all fired up."

His face and ears feeling warm all of a sudden, Sanji shrugged at Zoro and looked away with a bit of a pouty frown.

It made Zoro boastfully grin. "You wanted it just as bad."

Turning back to face Zoro with a weary sigh, Sanji leaned in to brush their lips together with an alluring smile, murmuring: "…Shut up."

* * *

**AN:** The sex turned out a _bit_ more tender than I had intended, but at least the competitiveness was still there.

*scrambles away*


End file.
